


When Splintering

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Canon - Manga, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spirit has PTSD from Stein and finally confronts him about it, after the manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: No one ever noticed how broken Spirit was until he just couldn’t hide it anymore.





	

Reconstruction was always the most difficult part of any project. The cleanup, the aftermath, the realization that all of the rubble and ruin had to be put back into place. Naturally, and as always, Spirit threw himself headfirst into it all, so used to putting things back together since he was always a master at breaking, anyway.

His meister was dead. Lord Death’s dissolving left a hollow, aching spot inside of him, somewhere where he thinks his heart should be, and for the first month after he found out, when he came home to his apartment every night, skipping the club, he always laughed bitterly into a glass of brandy when he thought of how fortunate he was to even have anything left to break. He wanted no company at night, not anymore. No more pretty girls in skimpy dresses. Not even Blair with her feline eyes regarding him with an understanding that burned. 

And it is the same _now_ , except he does not laugh. To laugh is to cry is to breathe is to exist. All of living is a fragmentation, now.

He has to pick up the pieces. And he has to do it alone, this time. 

The only person who can understand him is dead. He has a curse placed on him, he thinks. No Meister lasts very long without wounding him, in some way. Death with his passing. Kami with her bitterness, her distance, her ‘I can’t love that _thing’_ when she looked at Maka, her leaving. Stein-

God, Spirit wants to choke when he thinks of _that_ , old scars burning, something cold and furious and angry and _scared_  when he goes back to every time his first Meister lied and said the wounds Spirit found on his own body were just battle wounds when they were really incision lines. Kami had picked up those pieces. And when Kami left, Death picked the newly broken bits up, too. 

Now that Death was gone-

Spirit Albarn wants no company for once in his life. Not for the first month. And not now.

During the day, however, he is forced into it, as Death the Kid watches Spirit work out blueprints, watches from across the table with eyes suddenly a century too old on his face. And Spirit ignores him, for the most part. He looks too much like his Meister, ex-Meister, _dead_  Meister, dead Lord, the one who only hurt him indirectly by dying (the _bastard,_ Spirit always sobs).

No, days are not the time to think of how much Death the Kid looks like his father, a piece of him. Days are when Spirit’s dark circles are most prominent, and his smile is forced because he believes he’s stopped being able to know how to form it genuinely.

Always a recreation. Always a fabrication. Always cleaning up the rubble.

So, Spirit is the best choice for the job as he works out how best to reconfigure the splintering that Lord Death’s passing meant for the DWMA. The witches alliance that Kim tries to hold together, the reparations that are being called for.

And he knows he’s not the only suffering Albarn, too. His little girl, god, she left something, _someone_ , up on that moon who she considered a friend even though everyone else, himself included, felt nothing but relief to know Crona crafted their own self-made prison up so high in the sky no one had to worry about them hurting entire cities anymore. And she was adamant about getting them back, even when the world was in shambles.

When _he_  was in shambles. And he couldn’t help her. And she hated him for it, too.

Bitterness was no new pill for him. He knew it like an old friend, like the slithering warmth of whiskey down his throat, like the nails on his skin as he stood in the shower and tried to get clean. How long had he waited for a kindness from someone that wasn’t artifice? Some spark of romance or genuine caring?

He was numb to it all, now. Used to it.

The closest he got was when Marie’d given him the number to a therapist two weeks after Death died. Apparently, he must not have been as used to it as he believed. Bad at even being upset. A failure in everything.

“ _She might be able to help.”_  Marie had told him as she slipped him the card. She’d done the same thing when they were kids. When Stein-

When Stein-

Spirit couldn’t think about it. The pen shook in his hand as he looked over the words of laws and legislature and potentially relocating Death Scythes and Marie’s resignation and he couldn’t think, damnit.

“I- I should go home Lord- Kid,” Spirit choked out, and Death the Kid looked at him for a moment before nodding.

“It’s late,” he remarked.

It wasn’t. It was two pm. Classes weren’t even out, yet, but Spirit only straightened up and rushed out of the Death Room. How could he be there? How could he be expected to stand in the room where last he met his Lord and though tensions were high, Lord Death had put a hand on his shoulder and told him to come home safe? Nothing was okay. He was-

He wasn’t paying attention, barely even noticed when he bumped into Stein, their shoulders jutting against each other with the collision of a car accident, but he winced as soon as he realized.

“What’s the rush, senpai?” Stein asked him, so casually. And Spirit almost wanted to spit. Or cry. Or sob. Or scream. How could he be so nonchalant?

But, of course, Stein had been the only one with a happy end after that moon battle. Stein had someone to come home to, a reason to live, a reason to fight. A reason to stop smoking, Spirit realized, noticing the patch that was revealed when his lab coat slipped off of his shoulder slightly, revealing the short sleeved shirt he wore beneath. 

“I- not now-” Spirit said, voice trembling, but, then again, that was natural around Stein. The fear. The frustration. 

Spirit turned tail before Stein could even make another comment, and it was only when he did that he noticed Marie hidden beside her Meister, partially, her hair a mess, skin pink, trying to keep herself out of sight.

Spirit didn’t want to dwell. The jealousy gnawed at him, the pain.

The problem with reconstructing, he realized as he all but ran home, was that one was never the same, afterward.

There was always a weaker fracture point, in the end.

* * *

He should have known it would be Marie who came to see him after it all. Marie who could pick up the pieces. Pregnant, wholesome, happy Marie.

He didn’t resent her. 

Only a little. 

Not much at all. 

But he didn’t appreciate, in that moment, that she was the one to come by and knock on his door after he locked himself away in his room for a week, doing little more than wandering his apartment like a haunt.

But Marie knew how to pick up pieces even better than he did, knocking for so long he wondered if her knuckles were raw, and when he’d opened the door, the first thing she did was push him out of the way, carrying in at least ten Tupperware containers stacked taller than she was to deposit upon his table. 

“You,” she began, “need to eat.”

“Not hungry,” he’d muttered, closing his door with a soft click, and she looked around at his trash can, where too many empty bottles were.

“But plenty thirsty, I see.”

“You have no room to judge me,” he remarked, and she sighed before she nodded.

“You’re right. But you need to eat something. And I didn’t cook all of this for no reason.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your liver would say otherwise,” she replied, dryly, standing so she could pop her hip out. “Stein might have to have a look at it-”

“ _He is never touching me again_ ,” Spirit hissed, withdrawing in on himself and Marie looked taken aback for a moment, nodding slowly.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Just…go,” he said, but it was more plea than command, and Marie looked at him with that beautiful golden eye he had always secretly found so gorgeous. 

He wasn’t allowed to find her gorgeous. Not anymore. She was Stein’s girlfriend. Or fiance. Or hell even knew. They were in love and Stein got the girl because of course he did. Spirit was always the charmer but he was never the one women stayed for. Not even Kami.

Not that Stein was, either. Spirit always had a nagging fear that Marie would be hurt. He’d had dreams, sometimes,where he checked her for incision lines as he pressed his fingertips into her skin and she’d say his name and-

Of course, the S in Spirit that she’d hiss would always turn to a throaty “ _Stein”._ Spirit was a failure even in dreams, it seemed. 

Marie was the only woman he’d ever wanted and didn’t get to have, even for a night. Too good, really. Too invested in someone else. And he never would get her, now, anyway. She was with his _friend,_ wasn’t she? They were supposed to be friends.

Why did it all sting so badly? Why why why? Death is Kami and Kami is Stein and they all hurt him, damnit, they all knew how to hurt him so fucking _badly._

 _“_ Spirit.  . .” Marie begins, her expression compassionate and pained. “I think you need someone right now.”

Spirit laughed bitterly as he realized that Marie’d worked around his kitchen, heated pans, got out plates. When had she managed to do that? When had his table been set? When did the food come out?

All he was missing was Maka. Surely, she’d be happy to have Marie as her mother. Marie Albarn sounded nice.

God, what was he thinking? From one person to the next. He didn’t know how to be alone.

“I don’t want to eat,” he told her, hollow and broken and sad.

“You have to.”

“I-”

“I didn’t want to eat after Joe died, either,” she admitted, but Spirit was beyond his sympathy.

“You hadn’t seen him in years.”

“No, but he was my friend.”

“Death was more than my _friend,_ Marie! He was my _Lord!”_ Spirit finally exploded. “My friend and my partner and half of my soul- you don’t- you don’t _understand_ what it’s like to be betrayed by everyone you let into your soul- _everyone!”_

 _“_ Spirit, I-”

 _“Get out!”_  he yelled, and when did his legs wobble? When had the floor come up to meet him as he sobbed?

He almost wished that she’d stay. He almost wished that she’d settle upon her knees in front of him and wrap her arms around him and, god, what was he doing? 

Instead, she only looked at him and he could feel the pity in her eye, and then she was gone. A quiet “ _Just heat it up if you get hungry”_ the only thing she left in her wake.

* * *

“Franken…”

“Hmm?” Stein hummed, cracking his neck and stretching out.

“I’m home.”

“I gathered as much. Welcome. Are your ankles still holding up?”

“I’m only a few months pregnant. I can handle walking a couple blocks.”

He grunted his acknowledgement, but she could tell that he wanted to scoop her up and take her off her feet as he always did, prioritizing her no matter what. 

“Did you pick up the nicotine gum?”

“I didn’t go to the store, Frank. Think.”

His brows furrowed for a moment before realization dawned. “Ah, you went to see Senpai.”

“Yeah.”

But he didn’t go any farther than that. No indication of concern regarding how he was doing, nothing at all. Instead, he only turned back around to his research, cracking his knuckles, and Marie was instantly reminded of how Spirit had reacted when Stein was getting particularly affected by the madness wavelength, when he told Marie not to worry because Stein had dealt with it all his life.

Well, sometimes one had to worry. Sometimes it was what showed others that they cared.

“Aren’t you concerned?” she asked.

“Senpai is a grown man, Marie. He will recover.”

“And I’m a grown woman but you worry about me.”

“You’re my partner.”

“He was your partner once, too.”

“I was referring to our partnership in a sexually monogamous relationship. One I can assure you I never had with Spirit.”

“Franken.”

“It’s true-”

“No, I know you never slept with Spirit but-” she made a frustrated noise. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit concerned? He’s been gone for a week!”

“I presume he is no healthy state considering how frazzled you are. Would you like tea?”

“This isn’t about me, Stein. I- I think you should talk to him.”

At that, Stein paused. “What?”

“I think you need to talk to him. You and Spirit, you two never cleared the air about what you did.”

“We work together, regardless.”

“Yeah, because Lord Death made you. And the apocalypse forced you. But I know you, Franken Stein. Spirit’s like a brother to you.”

Stein sighed, turning back around to look at Marie. “Considering how long it has been, why is this necessary? And this isn’t why he’s in a depressive slump, besides.”

“He’s…he’s a mess, Frank.” Marie looked at him earnestly. “Please, just…talk to him. Apologize. Finally. It could help him at least a little. he said _everyone_ had hurt him.”

“Marie-”

“If not for his sake or your sake then…do it for me? Please? I miss Spirit, Frank. He’s…he’s all broken up inside.”

Stein looked at her for a long while. “For you?”

“Yeah…” she said, not particularly happy that she had to use herself as leverage for Stein to even go and be a decent human being to the person he victimized for years, but if it was what could clear the air, then damnit, she certainly wasn’t above that.

“Fine.”

* * *

Time stopped having meaning somewhere around day 43 after Death’s death. Hours and seconds, minutes and days: what was the difference? What was the _damn_  difference? His daughter didn’t call, and Marie didn’t show back up. 

He was running out of drinks.

Blair visited around day 38, clothed in little more than hot pants and a bra, her tiny jacket and thigh-high boots usually so fast to bring him into a good mood, but he looked at her with sad eyes.

“ _I brought food, Tomcat.”_ She’d said, but he only repeated that he wasn’t hungry. And after half an hour of trying to talk to him, Blair said she’d come back another day.

She hadn’t. He was alone. He always had been.

No, that wasn’t true. He always had someone. It was the opposite of being alone. After Stein, Kami picked up the pieces of him. After Kami, he wanted it to be Maka, a bit. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, for them to be a father-daughter duo. Instead, it was Death. 

Now that Death was gone-

Spirit choked down his sob, again. This was natural, too, now. Tears were laughter were drinking were breathing. It was all the fucking _same._

Even the knocking of the door stopped having meaning. He only noticed it a few minutes in.

Except this time. This time it was a sharp rap, three short knocks, and Spirit was filled with icy dread, immediatly. He knew that knock.

“Go away!” he called out, hands already shaking.

The truth was that it was one thing to work with Stein. One thing to find him in a battlefield. One thing to trust in his abilities. It was another thing to be around him in his _safe space_. This was his _home_  and he should be allowed to be safe in it but he wasn’t, he _wasn’t,_ and he was shaking and shuddering and-

“Open the door, Senpai. Or I can break it,” Stein remarked, his deadpan plain through the door.

“Just leave!” Spirit’s voice cracked, and he heard Stein sigh before he heard a click and the door swung open. Stein held up a key, dangling from a ring he twirled round his finger. “Lord Death kept spares in his archive,” Stein explained, and Spirit almost screamed. How _dare_ he say that name in his home, how _dare he?_

 _“_ Senpai,” Stein began, closing the door behind him. “Marie believes it prudent we talk-”

“I don’t want you in my house right now, Stein-”

“And I didn’t request your presence in my Lab when you went for your visits years ago.”

“That was on Lord Death’s behalf!” Spirit spat, defending himself. “To check that you were still _breathing_. No one else would!”

“And this,” Stein indicated, plopping down on Spirit’s couch, “is on Marie’s behalf. To check that you are still breathing.”

“I’m fine-”

“Senpai. We never spoke of our partnership.”

Spirit’s spine shuddered. No. _No_. This wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was to be alone. To mourn. To mourn for Kami and for his fractured friendship, for his sanity, for his health, for his Lord.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I never informed you I was so sorry-”

“I don’t care,” Spirit interrupted. “I don’t _care_  that you’re sorry! And don’t you _dare_ say that word like it changes _anything_ you’ve done!”

“Senpai-”

“ _No!_  I take care of you more than I care for my own _daughter_ , Stein, and you- you _cut me open_. For _five years._ And you think _sorry_ will change what you did? You think it can _excuse_ you?” Spirit asked, but when he started sobbing again, he didn’t know. When the tears started coming down- well. To cry was to breathe for him, now. 

“No,” Stein remarked. “It would be foolish of me to believe it would change what occurred. The past is set-”

“Good. Good you didn’t think that. Because I still wake up terrified that you’d have your hand in my chest! Do you know how many nightmares I had? Do you know how- I _trusted_  you! And you _gaslighted_  me! For so long!”

“I-”

“I don’t forgive you, damnit! I don’t! Now _get out of my house_!”

“Senpai-”

“I’m tired of having to pretend to be okay!” Spirit wailed. “I’m _tired!_ I don’t forgive you! I wish Kami didn’t leave. I want my daughter to _hug_  me, just _once!_ I- I want my _partner back_ ,” Spirit cried. “I’m not okay, damnit. It’s not okay!”

“Then do not pretend as though it is,” Stein said, calmly.

“I- I just…”

“Do you feel better?”

Spirit looked at him, his expression broken, but he nodded, once. To get it out in the open. To _say_  it…it really did help. Even just a little. Marie’s food didn’t help, the therapist’s number didn’t help, Blair’s visit didn’t help.

But his first Meister, the one who hurt him the most- how ironic that he was the one to bring clarity. This man he once considered his brother, who he could never consider his brother, again. Who he could never hug, again, without fear sparking down his pine. 

And, yet, Spirit knew that the ache of Stein’s betrayal had dulled, over the years. Spirit had come together, once again. It took a decade, but he did. And he would come together from this, too. Never the same, missing chunks, but standing.

And Spirit stood there and looked at the man who he once considered his friend, and still sometimes considered his friend. He stood and looked at him and Stein looked back. And it changed nothing, that much was clear. 

But he felt just the tiniest bit lighter, at least. 

Reconstruction was the hardest part of anything. Spirit wondered if Stein knew that he’d been the one to break him, first. And that, now, at least, he had finally picked up a single piece.


End file.
